


Hello Neighbour!

by nvaleintern



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff, Love, M/M, Neighbors, Sexual Confusion, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2021409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nvaleintern/pseuds/nvaleintern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Lester lives his ordinary life, spending most of his time on his family house roof. His window is right next to his neighbours house window and on a autumn night a new boy moves in next to him, getting a rather... odd greeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for deciding to read my fic!  
>  Friendly reminder that you don't have to be a registered user in order to leave kudos on my work. It'd really help me out, thanks!

Stars light up the sky, decorating the black abyss we call night. An uncountable amount of big and small balls that burn up or fall down and vanish forever. If I think about it, it´s kind of like with people. We are created, we live, we burn up and vanish forever.

But the big difference is that there are only 7 billion people while there are probably more stars in the universe than grains of sand on earth, or at least that´s what was written in a book I once read. Or was it a documentary on BBC Two?

I´m Phil Lester, 17 years old, and one of those living stars that are destined to burn up and vanish, but right now I´m here, and I´m alive.

My life can be called ordinary. I live in a small house with my parents, I go to college and occasionally spend time with some of my friends, but most of that said time I spend on my roof.

Ever since I was little it was my favourite place in the world. I remember my mum yelling at me after I almost slipped and fell down on the concrete.

I don´t quite know if it´s the silence that draws me back up every time, or if it´s the fact that from here I can see the stars, and loose myself in my thoughts, thinking about... stuff. Maybe it´s both. If I´m completely honest I think the roof feels more like home to me than my actual room, and besides that my actual room kind of sucks.

It´s not even the size or the furniture. I guess it´s more about the fact that my window is right across our neighbours window, so every time I change I had to draw the curtains or else Mrs. Jackson, the old lady that lived there could have seen more than she was supposed to, but she passed away a few weeks ago, leaving behind a dark and empty room that is probably more haunting than the old lady herself was. Is it cruel that I was relieved that she was gone so I could have my privacy back? See? That´s the stuff that I rethink while I´m on my roof.

I always end up forgetting the time, just like right now. It´s already 5 am and I´m still – Wait, already 5 _am?_ I have school tomorrow, or should I say, today. 

Quickly I climb back through the window into my room, which is slightly illuminated by the light from outside.

Everything is just like it is supposed to be, my bed with a cute lion bedding, my Sword Art Online and Shingeki No Kyojin posters at the wall and my desk with my MacBook in front of the big window, yet something is different. Something is out of place but I can´t quite make out what´s wrong, and it drives me crazy. What is it...

Wait, how can I see something. I did not turn on the lights and it should be pitch black in here, or could it be...

I turn around, hoping that I´m wrong but I´m not. The light that comes from outside isn´t from the street lamps but from the room in Mrs. Jackson´s old apartment. But how can this be? Even her window is open and the curtains with the cat print on them wave in the wind, like ghosts. Not that ghosts exist, even though my classmate Christian tried to convince me otherwise on numerous occasions, which also led to a funny Halloween story, but that can wait.

There are only two possibilities that can explain what is happening right now. The first one is that somebody broke into Mrs. Jackson´s house in hope of finding something useful that he or she can steal, what isn´t really smart, but considering the fact that the person left the window open and the lights on, she or he can´t be very smart anyways.

The second, and probably even worse possibility is that somebody moved in and that family Lester is getting neighbours.

What if it _is_ somebody that moved in? What if it´s a creepy guy that is eating soup all the time, or a weird lady exhibitionist. Maybe the latter isn´t that bad, as long as the lady is Emma Watson. 

I look through the window one more time, but nothing changed. The white door is still shut, the curtains still in their ghostly movement.

After half an hour of standing in my bedroom and staring through the window in hope of getting some sign of human inhabitation I finally give up and start to change into my pajama onesie.

Those people that live there, _if_ there are people that live there are definitely weird. Who leaves their lights on for half an hour without being in the actual room. Yes, I crossed out the possibility of a thief after thinking of numerous reasons why somebody would break into this house and finding, well, none.

I am just done with taking off my underwear and about to put on my onesie when I see the door knob wobbling, and then slowly turning.

My heart is racing as I stand there, butt naked, and I feel like I might die from the suspension, and maybe it´s a little bit over exaggerated but hey, this moment will probably decide about the future of living in this room for the next two years so I hope I get a bit of understanding.

The door is finally opening, but very, _very_ slowly, as if the person that is about to come inside would purposefully try to stretch this moment to drive me to madness. “Oh for gods sake just open the door.” I mutter to myself.

A hand. That´s the first thing I see and I think, it is a girls hand. Is it a girl? Maybe it´s a cute girl that likes the same stuff as I do and that´s pretty and that I´ll fall in love with?

All my hopes are being shattered the moment a boy steps inside. A boy, whose hands I mistook for a girls.

That doesn´t change the fact that he _is_ cute. Did I just use cute and boy in the same sentence? What.

The boy looks a bit uncomfortable as he´s hugging himself, and obviously saying something. Who is he talking with?

He´s probably around my age, his dark brown hair and pale skin and I should probably stop staring but something about that boy fascinates me. He´s rather odd, considering the fact that he is now sitting on his bed and jumping up and down a bit, still talking. 

I kind of want to knock on my window and say hello. Maybe I should, but wouldn´t it be weird to say hello at... 5,56 am? 

Lost in my thoughts I did not realize that the brown haired boy stood up from his bed and is standing right in front of his open windows, staring back at me, his face a mix of confusion, anger and... disgust?

I smile and wave awkwardly, but he´s not answering, nor waving back. He´s just staring and slowly closing his windows, shaking his head and then drawing his curtains shut, leaving my room in full darkness.

What was that all about? I was just being nice and he was looking at me as if I was the Queen Elisabeth in a thong. Wait. No, no, no! Only at this moment I realize that I am still in the middle of putting on my onesie and that the boy next door wasn´t greeted by a nice neighbour teen but by a waving creep whose exposing his body to people he has just met. 

I put on my onesie and jump under my duvet with the hope of never having to talk to the boy.

 


	2. I'm slipping (slipping!)

The soreness in my limbs tells me two hours of sleep were definitely not enough. Certainly not enough to get sufficient rest and hear the first two times my alarm clock ringing. Recently, running late on my schedule became a habit of mine, but for yesterday I at least had a good reason to stay up late. Who could go to sleep when there's a mystery waiting to be unraveled.

“Mystery” might be taking it a little too fat but getting a new neighbor, who is seeming to be at least a bit peculiar, which makes him oh so much more interesting, is almost twice as exciting as math class with Mr. Thompson.

_Five more minutes,_ I think but the tiny voice in my head already warns me that 5 minutes, in my case, often are  _slightly_ more than five minutes. So I roll out of bed, put on my uniform, getting tangled in the mess of black sweater and skinny black jeans, and take my bag with the books for my current classes as my mum yells through walls and doors asking if I slept in again. Scary how she always seem to know if I'm still in my room or not. There aren't any hidden cameras in my room, trust me I checked. So until now everything went just like a normal morning at the Lester household goes.

The images of last night/this morning (time's confusing) come to me as I brush my teeth – me seeing the lights burning at Mrs. Jackson's place, me watching as the new boy next door looked around his new place and then- oh god better not thing about what happened afterward or else I might die of embarrassement. I can already feel my pale cheeks burn up in a blush. What if he saw what no other boy should see? Not the first time he sees his neighbour anyway.

After one quick look in the mirror, fringe in place and smile on my face, I climb out of my window, onto the small roof of our first floor. When old Mrs. J was still alive I spend quite a lot of time up here. Sometimes we even held little pick-nicks where she gave me her mean chocolate chip cookies and I read the books we currently read for school out loud to her. Now I just use it to get down quicker. Usually this goes pretty fast but it seemed to rain a bit while I was sleeping because the roof tiles are slick and as much as life sucks sometimes I do not want to die like this, and at the same time I'm thinking this, the universe decides to mock me as I slip from the roof, my life flashing right before my eyes. Or at least the Lucy Mayers Incident from Middle School. God, that should not be my last thought. I really don't want to die like this, slipping to my death. I can already see the headline on tomorrow's newspaper: “ _Phil Lester – the local jester, slipped (not on a banana peel)” Phillip's friend, Chris, care to comment? So young, so precious, died a virgin and didn't even get to see the second season of Attack on Titan, and why? All because he was thinking about a boy next door he should not be thinking about._ Or something along those lines. It would be true, though. It's kind of sad that I'll never meet this new guy.Still, I had an awful lot time to think all those things, why am I not falling?

Opening my eyes, I see that yes, I fell _but_ I'm still mid-air. In fact I'm hanging onto something, that something being the strange boy's arm. “Care to help a little?”, he puffs out, and I realise how hard it must be for him to hold my weight (plus my backpack, blimey) up for that long. Now with a better hold on the precipipe of his roof I'm able to climb up, seeing the boy up close for the first time.

He sure does have dreamy eyes, the colour of freshly melted milk-chocolate, and a cute little dimple when he laughs. Wait, why is he laughing. “Why are you laughing?”, this might sound a bit more offensive than I intended because he stops immediately. “Sorry, but I could've died right there.”

“You'd be hardly dead, disabled from the waist down at best, from the neck down at worst.” When he finally manages to stifle his laughter, he looks up at me, watching, examining. “I'm sorry, but seriously you'd have to see your face.” He shoots me the most surprised and dopey face I've ever seen. Did I really look like that?

“Well, thanks for possibly saving me from being disabled then. Hope you had a good laugh. Can I at least use your door to go down? One near death experience a day is enough for me.”

He nods and gestures for me to go through his window, now decorated with a cute curtain with little kittens doodled on it.

Standing in his room felt a bit intrusive, I mean I hardly spoke with him but being saved by someone (and possibly him seeing your junk) sure brings you closer.

“So is this your room?”, dumb question, of course it is.

The boy, now in the room with his backpack on, smiles at me. “Yeah. Didn't have time to decorate it yet. Most of the boxes are still in the hall downstairs, mum had to go in for work early and I didn't feel like taking time off from school. So don't mind the boxes when you go down.”

 

Let's say I _try_ not to mind the boxes but when you can hardly squeeze past something without knocking something over ( WARNING: VERY FRAGILE, PLEASE USE CAUTION) you end up minding just a bit.

At least the space near the front door isn't all too cramped (thank god) and I can stretch my limbs a bit. Some boxes were already unpacked there, a few hoodies hang from hangers and a picture of a little girl piggy-back riding a brown haired boy. I didn't see a girl yesterday, but then again I didn't see his mum either. “Who's that?”, I ask him.

The smile from before vanishes from his face as he realises I'm talking about the picture. Sensitive subject. “I'm sorry I asked-” “No, it's alright, she was just a friend. Now come on we have _school._ ”

The emphasis on 'school' is striking. In his mouth the word sounded like he was just about to go on a 3 day cruise on the Pacific. “You sure are excited about it.”

He turns to me, smile back on his face again, like he never stopped, the sight of his dimple making my heart beat a little faster. “Mhm, never actually been to public school. Not since I was 10, I think.”

“Well that explains why you were out of breath after pulling me up.”

This, he answers with a buddy punch to my shoulder, though I have to admit, it hurts a bit. “You know they don't do P.E. at home school, my mum doesn't, anyway.”

“I'm Phil, by the way,” During all of this I kind of forgot to even introduce myself. “Nice to meet you, Phil. I'm Dan. I think we're even in a few classes together.”

Somewhere between hanging from the roof and leaving Dan's house this was what I was hoping for. That we'd be in the same classes and that this, whatever this was right now, isn't just a one time thing. Though, now that I know we'll see eachother more often, if not by choice then by social necessity, I feel like I need to come clean. “Hey, Dan, I'm sorry for yesterday.”

Dan just bursts out into his laugh again, god I hope we stay friends just so I can hear that laugh again “Well, I've never been greeted by an exhibitionist neighbour before, that's a fact.”

“I'd be surprised if you'd be.”

And just like that he turns around and starts running down the street like a crazy person. Then halfway through he stops, turns back to me again and yells “Don't worry, I haven't seen _it!_ ”

So there we are, Dan running towards our school building, and me standing in the chilly autumn morning, cheeks burning bright red, not only from the cold.

 

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
